


Further to Fly

by Luzula



Category: due South
Genre: Canada, Established Relationship, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-15
Updated: 2008-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/pseuds/Luzula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's early spring and the geese are migrating. Ray wonders if Fraser will, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Further to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kindly to Zabira for betaing this for me! The opening section owes something to Keerawa's [Bedtime](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_flashfiction/586485.html) and to Kill Claudio's [Shattered Light](http://kill-claudio.livejournal.com/11626.html). I hope they can forgive me for taking their metaphors literally! The backrub in the story is for Vsee. : )

It's a faint sound, and Ray doesn't hear it at first over the everyday sounds of the city and the cars passing by. But Fraser hears it, all right, and Ray turns back to see him standing still on the sidewalk, head turned to the sky while people walk by him like a stream flowing past a rock. Ray goes to him and touches his arm, and Fraser blinks, then meets Ray's eyes.

"The geese are migrating, Ray."

Ray looks up, and sees a flock of birds, flying in a v-shape high up in the sky. Now that he's listening for it, he can hear them calling to each other. Fraser turns his head down and walks on. His wings hunch a little, like they want to spread out, but they're securely bound so they'll stay out of the way and not trail in the street.

Ray's not stupid. Although, it's not like he needs to be a detective to see the way it's going to be. The way it should be, if there's any justice in the world.

***

That night, they're pretty beat after they finally crack the Connor case, and Ray's enjoying some much needed rest. His feet are up on the coffee table, his stomach is full, and he's leaning his head on Fraser's shoulder. Dief's lying on the floor, snoring. The TV is on, but they're not even pretending to watch it, it's just a comforting background noise of meaningless talk. Fraser used to find it annoying when Ray let it stay on, he'd call it "noise pollution" and ask Ray to turn it off. But Ray likes it, and Fraser's gotten used to it.

Ray's mind is drifting, watching Fraser's fingers work needle and thread, changing a new flannel shirt to make holes for the wings. His fingers work quickly, with automatic movements like he's done this hundreds of times, and Ray knows he has. His grandmother taught him to sew. Now, he's making buttonholes so he can button the shirt in the back, below the wings. Ray suggested using Velcro, but Fraser just shook his head, the stubborn fuck.

Ray snuggles a little more into Fraser's solid body. Fraser's wings are spread out all along the back of the couch and hanging out far beyond the edges. They're usually a little cramped from being bound up all day, and he likes to stretch them out. Ray turns and runs his hand along the top of the wing. The feathers are a bluish kind of gray, and they're small and soft here, not like the long sharp flight feathers at the edge. Fraser twitches, the wings lifting a little, then beating down.

"Ray, you know that tickles."

"I know. Sorry." Ray's mind comes back to what he's been trying not to think about all day, but he can't bring himself to ask. Instead, he asks something else. "What's it like, Fraser? Seeing Canada from above?"

Fraser's silent for a while, then he sighs a little and puts his sewing down. When he speaks, his voice is slow and dreamy. "There's so much water on the tundra in the spring, after the snow melts. The sun reflects off all the little ponds and wetlands, and if you fly high enough, they look like jewels scattered over the flat surface of the world. And there's so much life. In the spring, there is a rush of green growing things, as if the land knows that there's only a short reprieve before it grows dark and cold again. The geese nest in the wetlands, thousands of them feeding and mating together."

Ray's closed his eyes, listening, and it finally gives him the courage to ask. "So, when are you going back?"

"Ray?" Fraser sits up straighter, turns to look at Ray, but Ray looks away. "Ray, why do you say that? I'm not going back."

Ray makes a vague gesture. "I just...you shouldn't have to be here, in the city."

"Ray, I'm staying here. I want to be with you." Ray finally looks up then, and Fraser looks serious and completely sincere.

"You saying you're not homesick?" Ray pushes, because he can't just let this go.

"I didn't say that. I am homesick, sometimes. But being here is my choice, Ray." Ray feels something almost choking him then, and he buries his head in Fraser's shoulder. Fraser turns and holds him close, stroking his hair gently, over and over.

Ray brings his hands up to Fraser's face, holds it, and kisses him clumsily, eyes still closed. The kiss is soft at first, but then Ray wants more, like he always does. He turns his head and lets his tongue push into Fraser's mouth, and Fraser welcomes him in, turning his head to meet him so their noses don't collide. Ray drops his hand into Fraser's lap, moves the half-finished flannel shirt out of the way, and slides his hand up Fraser's thigh. He cups Fraser's cock through the tight jeans, feeling it grow hard. Then he moves down to the floor, reaching up to grab a pillow for his knees.

Ray needs the physical connection of this, of his mouth on Fraser, and maybe he's being clingy, but he doesn't care, and Fraser doesn't seem to mind. Impatiently, Ray unbuttons Fraser's jeans, and then growls when the jeans are too tight to let him do what he wants.

Fraser helps him tug the jeans off, and then Ray nudges Fraser's legs apart, until he's spread out on the couch, all Ray's. Ray takes his time then, sucking him slowly and thoroughly. It's wet and sloppy and Ray loves doing it. When he wraps his fingers around the base and sucks on the head, Fraser makes a sort of breathless moan, and Ray knows he's doing it right. Fraser doesn't always make a lot of noise during sex, and when he does, it turns Ray on hard. Sometimes Ray thinks Fraser could probably make him come just using his voice. He stops to unzip his jeans, because it kind of hurts, and looks up at Fraser. He's lying there looking like some kind of angel in the stained glass window of a church, if an angel could have a hard-on like that.

Fraser's eyes are shut, and when Ray's mouth closes around him again, his breath sighs out, and his hands come up to hold Ray's head. They're very gentle, Ray could move his head away any time he wants to, but he doesn't want to, and then Fraser's hips rock up, just small movements, so that his cock slides in and out of Ray's mouth. Fraser's fingers knead a little at Ray's scalp, and then he thrusts a little harder and comes, with short gasping breaths.

When Ray looks up, Fraser's lying back on the couch, looking sated and sleepy. He stretches his hands out, and Ray takes them and pulls him up. They stand there swaying a little, and Fraser wraps his warm hand around Ray's hard-on and smiles against the side of Ray's neck. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Fraser disappears into the bedroom, hunching down to get through, and when Ray comes in, he's sprawled naked on his stomach, legs parted, wings stretched out across the room and looking soft like the night. Ray has to stop, close his eyes and focus on his breathing before he shucks his clothes and gets down on the bed.

He lets his hands stroke up Fraser's back, fingers splayed out over the smooth expanse of skin. Ray thinks he feels kind of tense, which figures--he skipped the exercise flight that he usually takes every night. Experimentally, Ray digs his thumbs in on either side of Fraser's spine. Bingo. Fraser just melts into the bed, sighing, and Ray works his way up on either side of the spine, and then makes him lift the wing a little so he can get at the big flight muscles, kneading them with the heels of his hands. Fraser groans, a low sound from deep in his chest, which really turns Ray on, and then when he starts working on the shoulders, Fraser's making these soft satisfied moans. Ray starts wondering if he's doing it on purpose, because Ray is so hard that he doesn't know how he's holding on here.

"Fraser?"

"Mmph. Ray?" His voice is deep and relaxed.

"Did you know that you make more noise when I give you a backrub than when I blow you?"

"Ah. Well, if that's the case, it's in no way a reflection on your oral skills, Ray."

Huh. Fraser, the master of the non-answer. Ray's still not convinced he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. Ray works his way down Fraser's lower back and spends some time on the muscles of his ass, digging his knuckles into that tender spot at the side. Fraser draws his knee up to the side, then reaches for the lube on the bedside table, and with unerring aim throws it over his shoulder to land next to Ray. Okay, Ray can take a hint, and when his lubed-up fingers slide into Fraser's ass, they're met with an answering push that tells him Fraser is more than ready for this. Sure enough, he can see Fraser's hard cock rubbing against the bed covers.

"_Now_, Ray," Fraser growls into the pillow, and Ray is all over that. He slides in, and then has to hold Fraser's hips still for a moment. His hands are trembling a little against Fraser's pale skin. Then, when the urge to come has settled down a bit, he lubes his hand up and reaches around to stroke Fraser's cock with it. He draws out, then thrusts, changing the angle until Fraser cries out and goes a little bit crazy underneath him, and then he swipes his fingers over the head of Fraser's cock. Like flicking a switch, Fraser's coming, there's come spilling on his hand and Fraser is convulsing around him. Ray lets go then, letting his body move like it wants to, smooth and sure. He can feel it building up, curling in his stomach until he's losing his rhythm, going, going, gone. He tightens his hands on Fraser's hips and cries out, shaking all over.

They go to bed properly after that, Fraser on his stomach and Ray on his side with one hand nestled in the soft place where Fraser's wing joins his back. The extra limb thing was kind of a bother when they first started sleeping together--kind of like solving the problem of too many arms when you're cuddling face to face, but even more complicated. Really, there are very few times when the wings aren't in the way. Ray is drifting off into post-orgasm sleep, remembering one time when they weren't--Fraser swooping down from the roof, knocking down the unsuspecting perp. Kind of like Superman or something. Ray giggles.

"Mmm?" Fraser asks.

"Mmm," Ray reassures him, rubbing his nose against Fraser's shoulder.

***

There's a crowd of kids milling around the entrance to the Consulate, so Ray pulls up at the next block and walks over. Fraser's doing statue duty, sticking up above the kids crowded around him like the mast of a ship at sea. As he gets closer, Ray sees that they're tugging at his feathers, laughing and shouting. Ray feels anger rising, and quickens his steps.

"Hey! You get off him!" The kids scatter. Isn't there some responsible adult around here? He positions himself in front of Fraser and crosses his arms, glaring. The door of the Consulate opens and Turnbull steps out, followed by a harried-looking woman.

"Welcome to Canada," Turnbull begins, but he's interrupted.

"Hey, he's got a costume too!"

"But no wings!"

The woman raises her voice and manages to create some kind of order out of the chaos, and the kids file into the Consulate. Ray sits down on the stone steps. Knowing Fraser, he'll be mute and deaf until twelve o'clock exactly. Ray checks his watch--six minutes to go.

Fraser's stiff as a board, eyes ahead like he's seeing the horizon through the houses and cars. His wings are bound up neatly with leather straps that match his belt thing. The sun brings out the colors in the feathers, and they shimmer in subtle blues and grays, contrasting with the sharp red of the uniform and Fraser's dark hair. God, he's beautiful.

It's not fair, Ray thinks fiercely. It isn't a disease, not really. Though yeah, he got that apparently people could die from it, when they hit puberty and the wings grew out. Fraser nearly had. He'd told Ray what he remembered about it, which wasn't much since he'd been in a fever for weeks, and in constant pain from his bones hollowing out. There'd apparently been weird Inuit rituals, though, something to do with raven feathers.

Once the wings are out, Ray can't see why it should matter, but a lot of people in the US were pressured into removing them surgically. Sure, there'd been a few accidents, but people have accidents all the time and there's really no reason to blame the wings for it. Of course Canada, being all liberal, wasn't like that and Fraser'd gotten through Depot despite the wings. Yeah. They'd probably allow gay marriage soon, too.

He watches the minute hand on his watch slide onto the hour hand, and right on cue, Fraser turns and smiles at him, just a small smile, but Ray grows all warm inside.

"Thank you, Ray. It really was most uncomfortable to have the children pull on the feathers."

"Anytime, buddy. I'm like your knight in shining armor, protecting you against little kids when you're all helpless."

"Indeed you are, Ray." Fraser sounds entirely serious, which is kind of ridiculous given that the one who looks more like a knight here? Isn't Ray.

"C'mon, let's go for lunch."

"Let me just fetch Diefenbaker." The main hall of the Consulate is empty, though Ray can hear Turnbull's lecturing voice upstairs, apparently telling the kids all about the different people who've slept in the Queen's bedroom through the years. Dief is lying underneath Fraser's desk, looking sorry for himself.

"Diefenbaker. Did I or did I not warn you that eating Turnbull's homemade pastries would upset your stomach?" Dief whines pitifully. Fraser glances at Ray. "You see, they were a little...unconventional."

"Hey, I don't want to know. Dief, come on. You know you'll feel better." Dief looks put-upon, but comes willingly enough, and they go out the door and down the street to the Thai place on the corner.

All through that afternoon, while Ray's finishing up paperwork and thinking about Fraser doing the same, the gears in his mind are turning. By the time his shift ends, he knows what he wants to do. So he makes a couple of calls, checks prices and dates, and then goes to Welsh's office, fiddling nervously with the keys in his pocket until he hears Welsh's deep voice saying: "Come in."

Welsh is reluctant, like he'd expected. But Ray reminds him who recently solved the Connor case, and who worked overtime not one, but two weekends to do it. At this, Welsh gives in with a long-suffering sigh, like he carries the burdens of the universe on his shoulders. Ray walks out with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face. Ha. Welsh might look tough, but he's a pushover inside.

Now for the hard part. Ray sits down and lifts the receiver, hesitates, and goes to the bathroom instead. Then he gets a coffee and a candy bar and stares at the phone like it's a rattlesnake and might attack him. Finally, when the cup is empty and the candy bar eaten, he counts to three, takes a deep breath and calls the Ice Queen.

Ray runs a couple of errands before going home, stopping by the grocery store with Fraser's shopping list. A pound of rice, a carton of milk, four broccoli heads, carrots. When he gets home, Fraser's nowhere to be seen, but there are delicious smells coming from the kitchen, and Fraser's dress uniform is hanging neatly on a hanger by the door. There's also a note on the kitchen counter.

_If you should get home before I am back, would you prepare the rice and the broccoli? Do not overcook the broccoli (this reduces the vitamin content by 30%, not to mention makes it less appetizing). /BF_

Ray grins. Frankly, he thinks most people would consider Fraser a freak even without the wings. He lifts the lid on the simmering stew. It's some kind of meat, in a dark sauce, probably made with soy sauce.

The rice is cooking and Ray's cutting the broccoli in smaller pieces when there's a sound out on the fire escape, and Fraser comes clambering in, looking the way he usually looks after his evening flight: red-cheeked and energetic, and mmm, sweaty. The feathers on his wings are windblown and disarrayed, and seem to fill the whole kitchen. He comes up behind Ray, who's chucking the broccoli pieces into boiling water, and nuzzles his neck, sniffing behind Ray's ear in that way he's got.

"Hi. You have a good flight?"

"Oh yes. Quite invigorating." Fraser eyes the broccoli, and Ray stabs the air with a spoon, scattering half-cooked rice on the counter.

"Yeah, Fraser, I will remember the broccoli, okay?"

Fraser looks a little hurt. "Ray, I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it."

"Perhaps. But surely it's what I actually say that matters?"

"Well, all right," Ray grumbles, then adds, "Stew smells good."

"It's a recipe my grandmother learned while she was working in China."

"Huh." Then Ray thinks about what he did this afternoon, and smiles with the satisfaction of someone who has a secret to tell. "Oh yeah, I have a present for you. Close your eyes."

Fraser looks surprised, then closes his eyes obediently. Ray gets the two return tickets to Inuvik from his jacket pocket, and presses them into Fraser's hand. "Okay, you can look now."

Fraser looks stunned at first, but then the corners of his mouth turn up, until his face is one big smile that makes the kitchen lamp look dim.

"Ray, you..." Ray grins at the sight of Fraser speechless--it's not something he gets to see often. Then Ray is suddenly up against the fridge with Fraser's tongue in his mouth and the handle on the door digging into his back.

The broccoli ends up overcooked again, but for once, Fraser doesn't care and neither does Ray.

***

Ray leans on the wall of the cabin, his eyes tearing up from the wind. He wipes them with his mitten, and pulls his hat down further over his ears. Ray smiles a little, thinking of himself as a teenager, when he'd never have been caught dead in a hat like this. It's hell on his hairdo. But Fraser would tell him to do the sensible thing, and anyway, the wind feels like it could cut right through him.

He squints at the sky, looking after Fraser. It's almost sunset, he should be back soon. Not that Ray is worrying.

Inuvik feels like the end of the world. Like maybe if they continued a little further north, they'd just fall right off the edge. It's fucking cold, even though Fraser assures him it's spring. Fraser took him out on the tundra earlier today, after he got Ray a pair of rubber boots. Turned out he needed them, because it was wet out there, wet and muddy, with patches of snow still covering the ground in places. Anyway, Ray watched Fraser more than he watched the tundra, because boy, was he shining. Ray paid attention, trying to see through Fraser's eyes, see what he was seeing.

Fraser was more than willing to share.

"Ray, look at the willow catkins. They're in flower already." He bent to break a twig from a ridiculously small willow, and stroked the gray little clumps along Ray's lips, soft like velvet. It tickled a little, and Ray smiled.

Dief was ranging ahead, nose to the ground and tail high and confident. He circled back occasionally to check on them, but otherwise seemed intent on his own mysterious affairs.

"This is a _Cladina_ lichen," Fraser said, pointing to a soft-looking mound of white on the ground. "It's an important winter food for the caribou."

"Huh. And did _you_ eat that for breakfast when you were little?"

"Well, not quite. Some Inuit tribes do eat it, although you need to boil it for a while first. And to be honest, it doesn't taste very good."

It was like Fraser saw a whole different place than Ray did, the way he constantly stopped and bent down, looking at a patch of green on the ground, or turned his head sharply at the call of some bird. How on Earth did Ray end up falling for this crazy guy, who strode along in jeans and a parka and rubber boots (and wings, don't forget the wings) communing with the tundra? It really was kind of mind-boggling, and Ray smiled fondly at Fraser's back.

They stopped for lunch on a little hummock, and ate sandwiches and drank steaming hot tea and coffee from thermoses. "You want to take a flight on your own? I can find my way back."

"Are you sure?" Fraser was doing the considerate thing, but Ray could see that he really wanted to go off on his own.

"Sure I'm sure, I can see the cabin from here. Go on."

"Right then. I should be back by sunset at the latest." Fraser spread his wings with a sharp rush of air, and did a running take-off, and Ray watched him get smaller and smaller.

"That goes for you, too, furface." He ruffled Dief's fur, and Dief nudged Ray's hand with his nose, then trotted off in the direction Fraser had gone. Ray made his way back, trying to see on his own the things that Fraser showed him.

Ray squints into the wind, trying to see if that blur on the horizon is Fraser. He fumbles in his pocket for his glasses. Yeah, must be--no bird is that shape. He waits impatiently while Fraser slowly gets bigger and closer, and Dief stands up, stretching. He came back half an hour ago, looking tired but satisfied, and he's been curled up at Ray's feet, waiting with him.

Fraser finally lands in front of him, his huge wings beating hard a couple of times to slow him down so he can set his feet down delicately on the grass.

Ray grins. "Show-off."

Fraser acknowledges this with a tilt of his head. He pulls down the hood of his parka and takes his mittens off. His nose and lips are cold as he lightly kisses Ray on the mouth. "You weren't worried, were you?"

"No," Ray lies. Well, he wasn't. Not seriously. Fraser's eyes narrow.

"This close to the town, there's cover for mobile phones, you know that. I really was in no danger by myself."

"Yeah, okay. Did you get to fly with the geese?"

"Well, I saw many geese, certainly, but I'm afraid they think I am some kind of bird of prey, at least I assume so. They keep their distance."

Ray laughs. "Figures, yeah. Come on, let's get in out of the wind."

While Fraser was gone, Ray made himself useful, and dinner is on the stove. It's just some kind of freeze-dried camping dinner, but anything tastes good when you're cold and tired. The cabin they rented is spartan: there's two beds that they've moved together in the middle of the room, a wood stove, a cupboard, and a table with two chairs. There's no running water, but there's a small stream outside.

After washing the dishes in the stream, they go to bed early, curled up together under a nest of blankets. They're still tired from the long plane trip, not to mention the hike on the tundra. Ray wraps himself up in Fraser, grateful for the warmth.

"Ray?" He can feel the deep vibrations of Fraser's voice against his back.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you. For coming here with me."

"I wanted to see your home. See you in your home."

Fraser shifts his arm, drawing Ray closer. "You don't still think I'm going to leave you, do you?"

Ray is silent, considering, and then speaks into the darkness. "I dunno. I guess not. I mean, not that you'll suddenly leave, anyway. But I wouldn't want you to pine away in the city, either."

Fraser is silent, too, for a while. "I can't say that I don't miss it, but you can't get everything in life that you want. You have to choose. And there are things about the city that I like, too."

"Yeah, I get that. Nothing's as simple as you think it is."

"No, it isn't."

Ray drifts a little, completely warm now, even his toes. Just before he falls asleep in Fraser's arms, he feels the brush of Fraser's lips on his neck, and the whispered, familiar words: "I love you."


End file.
